


Death Master and Angel Son

by InsertPotterThemedUsernameHere



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, EWE, M/M, Master of Death, Master of Death Harry, Mpreg, Nephilim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertPotterThemedUsernameHere/pseuds/InsertPotterThemedUsernameHere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean meets with Death to get his ring only to find out Death does not have it: his true master does. Now the Winchesters are on the search for Harry James Potter, the Master of Death. Will they be prepared for what they find? And why does Harry seem to hate Castiel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. I make no money, so don't sue me. Please and thank you.
> 
> As stated, this will be slash and has been mpreg, so please no flames. Constructive criticism is welcome. This story is a result of the poll I had put up on fanfic.net (where I crosspost under the same name): a SPN/HP fic where Harry was Master of Death and Castiel's son. I have no timeline planned on when new chapters will be released. This is a taster chapter to gauge interest – so please let me know what you think and enjoy. Love, Insie

Chapter One

_"Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."_

_-Death (5x21 "Two Minutes to Midnight")_

"If you give me your ring, we can put Lucifer away, unbind you," Dean insisted, trying to negotiate with Death. They needed the ring to put that angel dick in the ground and prevent the apocalypse: the world depended on it.

"My ring – that I cannot give Dean Winchester," Death drawled mournfully as he continued to cut into his deep-dish pizza.

"But don't you understand what Lucifer will do–" Dean started, only to be interrupted.

"As a matter of fact, I do understand, Mr. Winchester," Death snapped and his voice turned to ice. "I have been in this universe long before you, Lucifer or even maybe  _God_ – it's been so long, neither of us can remember. I have seen empires come and go in the blink of an eye. I have seen war and destruction by the hands of the sinful and righteous alike. You will do well to remember with whom you are speaking to, Dean Winchester, and how insignificant you truly are."

"Now, if you paid attention," Death continued, back to his usual drawl, "I said 'I cannot give' you my ring not that I would not give you my ring. I have no ring to give, I'm afraid."

"But –" Dean gestured to the visible white ring on Death's finger. "Your hand?"

"Oh, this?" Death said, and lazily flicked his wrist. The ring vanished from sight in a wisp of smoke. Dean's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. "Nothing more than illusion. Wouldn't want the reapers to know I'm without the ring, you know."

"Where is it?" Dean growled, and slammed his fists on the table.

"Calm yourself, young one – wouldn't want to have a heart attack now would you," Death chuckled, and then returned to his sullen mood. "You are asking the wrong question. It's not a matter of where, for I have no idea where it is, but I do know the  _whom_. He is hidden from me, however..."

"He?" Dean ever the determined one, latched onto to that word-clue. "Someone else has your ring?"

"And finally you catch on," Death said and scowled. "Yes. My  _master_  has my ring."

"Lucifer?" Dean bellowed.

"No, no," Death replied swiftly. "Another is my true master."

"You have a  _true_  master?" Dean questioned, not believing what he was hearing.

"I know, isn't it just  _awful_ ," Death replied moodily and stabbed his pizza with his fork. "An awful mistake of a deal that I made years ago with those damn Peverells. Too much hubris on my part, I fear. Well, you live and learn – or die and learn, as it were. Anyway, he that is the holder of the Deathly Hallows and has mastered Death himself is the Master of Death. He is who you will need to find in order to locate my ring."

"And who is he?" Dean asked quickly, knowing his time was rather short. They would be bringing him back to life at any moment.

"He had many names before he hid from me: the Boy-Who-Lived, the Freak, and the Chosen One. But, the name he was born to was Harry James Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

As Dean waited at Bobby's house for Cas, Bobby and Sam to return from stopping the distribution of the croatoan-laced swine flu vaccine, he thought about his interaction with Death. The outcome of the meeting had come out of left field. He thought that he would have had the last ring or been killed in the process: instead, here he was alive and well, sitting on the porch with a beer, and one ring short.

Dean drank the last sip of said beer and then got up and went inside. It would do him no good to just be moping around like some dog that lost his bone. Instead, he sat down at the kitchen table and started to write down a list of what Death at told him about his master.

Master of Death

  * Harry James Potter (Boy-Who-lived, Freak, Chosen One)
  * Hiding from Death
  * Deathly Hallows (???)
  * Guy who has hallows and mastered death can then be Master of Death
  * Master of Death thing happened with a deal made by Death to the Peverells 



"Son of a bitch!" Dean mumbled, as he realized how little information he actually had. Death had refused to tell him any more, saying that Dean had enough of the pieces to figure it out, and if Dean wanted Chicago to still be standing, then the man would leave him in peace to finish his pizza.

Dean could only hope that Sammy, Bobby, or Cas would have more information or a plan on how to track down the Master of Death.

At that moment, he heard the truck pull up in the driveway.

"Speak of the devil," Dean said has the three he had been thinking about walked into the house.

"I don't understand, Dean," Castiel said in his normal gravely voice, as he entered the room. The angel leaned against the counter, with his head quirked like a puppy. "Why would you want us to speak of Lucifer? Do you have new information?"

"Uh – Cas that's not what I – you know what, never mind," Dean said, shaking his head. Sometimes it was just not worth it. "So how did it go?"

"All good work on our parts, and all parts working good," Bobby said as he went to the fridge to pop open himself and Sammy a beer. Sammy sat down at the table with Dean, but Bobby stayed standing. Dean could see how springy the man's step was, and although he wished Bobby had not made the deal, he was glad to see the old man on his feet again. "What about you? We heard nothing from you, idjit. Half-thought you was dead if it wasn't for the Chicago weather reports saying that the storm had miraculously disappeared."

"Yeah, I spoke with Death," Dean said, and unsure of how to tell them what happened.

"Well?" Bobby prompted. "Did you get the ring or not?"

"No, I didn't," said Dean. "Death didn't have it. Said he made a deal with 'those damn Peverells' and ever since has not had the ring. Now his  _true master_  has the ring: the Master of Death. His name is Harry James Potter, though he has had some other names. I wrote down all that he told me here," and he passed the note to Sam and Bobby read the note together. Castiel came over to them and read over their shoulders quickly, then retreated to his spot by the counter.

The three men missed the subtle grimace the angel's face took. It was gone within moments.

"That's it?" Sam asked, a bit disbelieving, as it looked back to his brother. That was not a lot of information to go on.

"You try to kill Death and then have a conversation with him!" Dean rebuffed and crossed his arms defensively. "Look, at least we have a name – or names. Maybe we can run a check for Harry James Potter?"

"Yeah, but Dean, I hardly think he'll be in the phone book," Sam scoffed and took a drag of his beer.

"Well, then we can look up lore on the Deathly Hallows," Dean continued, trying to be optimistic. They had to figure out a way that they could stop the apocalypse without Sam saying yes. "Have you heard of anything like this Bobby?"

Bobby stroked his beard.

"Funnily enough, I think I have," he then left the kitchen, and they heard him going through the books in the living room. He came back a few minutes later with a thin book titled  _Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

"That's a reference?" Dean said, taking it and flipping through it. "It look's like a baby's picture book."

"That's because it is,  _idjit_!" Bobby snapped and snatched back the book. "It's a supposed to be a Wizarding fairy tales book."

"Wait, so witches read this to their little witch babies?" Dean balked.

"Not witches as you know them, Dean," Castiel interjected. Dean turned to look at him but Cas instead looked out a window instead of making eye contact. "There are humans who don't make deals or corrupt their souls to gain it, but rather are born with magic."

"There is nothing in dad's journal about humans born with magic," Sam said, and looked from Castiel to Bobby.

"They have entire communities and shroud themselves in secrecy, because of the persecution that was done to them in my father's name. That's probably why you've never heard of them," Castiel said as he eyed the book. "I am surprised you have a copy of one of their texts."

"Got it in a trade from a hunter in New York," Bobby explained gruffly as he flipped through the book. "Said it was Wizarding, and she had written notes within in about her theories. I wasn't sure about it, but I got it anyway, 'cause I didn't think it would hurt none. I thought it was just myth. Just like I thought vampires and angels were myths, too. Go figure."

"Wait, so if they have magic, why don't they do anything to fix this?" Sam asked. "Or go after Supernatural creatures that attack others?" He was amazed that true magic users existed but was frustrated that they seemed to do nothing to help others. Just like the angels.

"Magic cannot solve everything, Sam," replied Castiel, sage-like as ever. "And yours is the expectation many will have. They refuse to lift a hand to help the mundane for fear of their world being revealed and them be persecuted or used by other humans. You do not have a good history of treating them with respect."

"Right, so, here it is the 'Tale of Three Brothers,'" Bobby said, getting down to business before an argument could start. He read the story aloud, along with the handwritten notes on the margins, and Sam wrote down the key information from the story onto Dean's list.

"Tales of Three Brothers"  _Tales of Beedle the Bard_

  * Deathly Hallows (Elder Wand, Resurrection Stone, Cloak of Invisibility)
  * Peverells (the Three Brothers)
  * Antioch: Elder Wand (Unbeatable)
  * Cadmus: Resurrection Stone (Can bring an echo of deceased)
  * Ignotus : Cloak of Invisibility (Can hide from Death) - Gave to son



"Okay, so Death said that a person who has all three hallows and masters Death then becomes the Master of Death," Sam said, going over their list. "So this Potter had to have had all three Hallows and then 'mastered death'. How would you master death?"

"'To conquer death, you only have to die,'" Castiel said, thinking hard (1). "The way to master death is not to flee it but to welcome it, as our Lord did, and then overcome it."

"So are you saying that we have a modern Jesus on our hands?" Bobby grimaced.

"No, there is only one messiah," Castiel replied, literal as ever. "He would have had to have had the deathly hallows on him as he sacrificed his life and accepted death."

"OK, so if he had a wand – you would think that he would be a magic-user – a wizard then," Sam said, talking it through. "We didn't even know that a Wizarding community existed, how will we be able to find him if he is within one?"

"Wait a minute - can you track him, Cas?" Dean asked, but his hopes were dashed when the angel just shook his head.

"Ever since I saw the name, I tried to find him, but he is hidden," Castiel said, frowning.

"So what hides him from Death – it can hide him from angels, too?" Sam asked.

"I am not sure," Castiel replied. "It is as if he does not exist – like the protections I put on you and Dean."

"There has to be some way to track him down," Dean said and drummed his fingers on the table.

Sam turned back to their notes and came up with a thought.

"You have to have all of the hallows to become Master of Death," Sam stated, thinking. "So the wand seems to be a wildcard – no real way to track it, if it goes from person to person the way it was shown in the story. The stone, it doesn't seem to have a way of being passed around, so no clues on that end. But, the cloak – what if it was passed down through the family in real life just as it was in the story? Maybe if we try and track down Ignotus Peverell's line and cross-reference that with Harry James Potter we can have a start." The younger Winchester then turned to Castiel. "Could you do that Castiel?"

"Now that I am cut off from Heaven, no," Castiel said slowly, still not making eye contact, and Dean felt something was off with him, as if the angel was holding something back. Dean was about to confront him, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Maybe I can be of some help, boys?"

The three humans and the angel turned their heads to see Crowley, King of the Crossroads, standing at the kitchen door with a cocksure grin.

(1) From "Poor Jerusalem" in _Jesus Christ Superstar_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for your encouragement! Keep it coming - it keeps me going ;)

**Chapter Three**

_Previously:_

_"Maybe I can be of some help, boys?"_

_The three humans and the angel turned their heads to see Crowley, King of the Crossroads, standing at the kitchen door with a cocksure grin._

"And just how is that Crowley?" Dean asked and stood in a defensive posture. "You weren't a great help with Death. And just how long have you been listening in?"

"I found him though, didn't I," Crowley replied. "And long enough to know you are looking for Harry Potter."

"How can you find him if even Death can't find him?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Death can't find him?" Crowley repeated in surprise. "Ooh, now that's interesting. And I will answer you only if you answer me – where is Death's ring? I see you don't have it Dean-o, after all that, such a shame."

The Winchesters looked at one another and stayed silent.

"Oh, come on," Crowley gruffed. "Fine, then I will just use some context clues: Dean went to Death to get his ring, Dean came out alive with no ring and is now looking for Harry Potter. Doesn't take a genius, I just want confirmation: did Death say that Potter had the ring?"

Unable to articulate any response, Dean just nodded.

"So it's true!" Crowley said and rubbed his hand to his face. "There was rumor, but –"

"Wait – so you know of Harry James Potter?" Sam exclaimed.

"Know him?" Crowley laughed. "Of course I know him – he only killed hundreds of demons in a day. The man is legend. Made most of the demons flee Britain."

"Wait, so this guy is a hunter?" Dean asked.

"Not as such, no," Crowley said, and he took the seat that Dean had left, propped his feet up on the table and folded his hands behind his back. Dean in turn scowled and went to lean up against the counter next to Cas. "He defeated a Wizarding Dark Lord who was trying to take over the world, blah, blah, blah. Lord Voldemort had summoned a demon army and had promised them the moon. That's where I saw him, on the battlefield. He defeated the Dark Lord, but that wasn't the end of it. The Wizarding followers ran, the cowards, but the demons continued to attack. We had been promised so much and didn't want to go back into the pit. He slaughtered hundreds of them with his bare hands, just smiting them with awesome power. Then black flames kindled around him, and he vanished with a shockwave of red, and all we demons that were left were sent back to the pit. No demon has seen him since."

"If no one has seen him since, how will you be able to find him?" Bobby asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"While no one as  _seen_  him, there have been direct clues of his  _existence_ ," Crowley answered, scathingly. "Demons were afraid to return to Britain until after a while there was no sign of the Potter brat. Then, they came up one by one only to become missing within a week. No demon who went ever returned. Even stranger was that every deal I or another crossroads demon had made was canceled days before the hounds were to fetch them. We never investigated, but there was no doubt in our minds that the wizard was behind it. No one had ever broken a deal before, just as no one had ever permanently killed so many demons before... It makes sense now."

"Yeah? How so?" Dean asked, warily.

"Only Death can void deals," the demon answered. "And, if he is literally  _Death Master_ , then that would mean he could as well."

"So, then we find someone in Britain who has a deal coming up and stake them out until Potter arrives," Sam exclaimed.

"No can do, Moose," Crowley shot down with a smirk. "There isn't a soul in Britain promised to hell, or at least not contracted. It's been 12 years since the demons were first expelled, and no contract goes longer than a decade. No new contracts were made since then in Britain – no demon's willing to step even a toe on that island."

"So what is your proposal, then?" Castiel asked, his eyes narrowing at the demon. "You wouldn't still be here if there wasn't something you had in mind."

"Alright, alright, no need to get your feathers ruffled," Crowley drawled. He took his feet off the table and leaned forward with his hands steepled together. "As I said, there isn't a soul in Britain – at the moment – that has a contract. But, we could change that. Set a trap – send someone with a contract there and snatch him up when he goes to relieve it."

"So we send Bobby?" Sam asked, looking to the older man. Said man scowled and opened his mouth to say something only to be cut off before he started.

"We could, if you wanted to wait ten years when his contract is ready to end," Crowley said.

"Wait – I thought the deal was you would find Death for us and was just holding Bobby's soul as collateral but that you would return it," Sam said, in a worried tone.

"Yes – and I gave him his legs back, no need to thank me," Crowley grumbled and then clarified, "But, all contracts must have deadlines. I put his at the standard ten years, with the thought you lot would be able to kill Lucifer sooner than that. No, it'll have to be Dean."

Dean startled, and Sam rose from his chair so quickly it fell over. Castiel uncrossed his arms and changed his stance, ready to defend Dean.

"Bullshit," Bobby exclaimed and stood in between Crowley and Dean. "Just make a new deal with me."

"Nope – can't have more than one contract going at the same time, Bobby-boy," Crowley said, not the least bit intimidated by the posturing in the room. "And I won't end that contract until Lucifer is dead and gone – like I said before, nice insurance to make sure I survive the apocalypse alongside you lot."

"Why not me?" Sam asked quickly.

"Sammy, no –" Dean started.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Dean-o, I wouldn't make a contract with Jolly Green here with or without your protestations," Crowley sneered. "If Lucifer found out I made a contract with his vessel, I would be dead – completely and utterly dead, and unlike you lot, I have no death wish. No, it'll have to be Dean, if we want this to work."

There was a moment of silence as this information brewed within the men and the angel.

"How would this deal work?" Dean asked and held up his hands to the others' protests. "God and everybody else and their grandmas know that the last thing I want is to be promised back to the Pit. But I want to hear what the deal would be before we turn it down."

"You would promise to give your soul to hell in one week in the hopes that the contract will be nullified by the Death Master," Crowley said. "If at the end of the week no Death Master appears, then the contract will become null and void. Do we have ourselves a deal?"

"Sammy, any loopholes?" Dean asked, keeping eye contact with Crowley.

"Dean, you can't –" Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

"Sammy, any loopholes?" Dean repeated firmly.

Sam looked like he was about to cry or flip the table or both. He took a breath and rubbed his palms on his face.

"Well – you'll need to add that if Potter appears and does not nullify the contract that the contract will still be nullified by Crowley at the end of the week," Sam said in a lawyerly fashion. "But Dean, there must be another way we can track him without having your soul promised to Hell. Again."

"Sammy, not a day ago you were shooting your mouth off about saying yes to  _the Devil_ ," Dean snapped. "If signing this contract will get us closer to killing the son of a bitch, then I'm doing it."

"Cas – c'mon say something," Sam begged, turning to the angel. "You can't let Dean do this."

Dean turned to Cas and wondered what the angel would say. Before Crowley barged in, Dean had noticed something off about Cas, as if he was hiding something. While they all listened to Crowley's tale about the Death Master, Dean noticed that Cas had tensed up. The angel knew something. But what?

"Sam, when we were in the vehicle, I agreed with you that the option you may have to take is saying yes to Lucifer," Castiel said, his voice monotone but his eyes betraying some emotion – what, Dean could not tell, but there was something there. "I also must agree that this is the option that Dean may have to take as well. With addendum you made, I see no issue with the contract. We will be there with Dean to protect him, if needed."

Sam's shoulders slumped in defeat at the response, Bobby scowled and turned away, and Crowley smirked in satisfaction. Dean just studied Cas for a moment and then made two decisions.

One, he would go through with the deal. Two, he would find out what Cas was hiding – one way or another.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Thanks for all of the support, everyone! It keeps me going. This is going to be an explanation chapter - though not everything will explained. Gotta keep some things to myself until the time is right ;) And I actually did research for this chapter when it comes to angelic/nephilim lore, so I hope you like it.
> 
> Please enjoy.

  **Chapter Four**

The deal was done. Dean signed the contract and unfortunately sealed it with a kiss, which the other two men and the angel awkwardly, yet pointedly, looked away from. They decided Dean, Sam and Cas would travel to Britain tomorrow to trap the Death Master, Bobby would stay and research the lore they had on the Master of Death and call in more contacts, and Crowley would scurry off to wherever he went to when he was not with them.

After much discussion, they decided Cas would fly the three of them, even though it wasted some of his precious 'angel battery' as Dean so aptly named. There was too much of a risk for the Winchesters to fly internationally with the numerous arrest warrants out for them, and they would not have been able to take their weapons with them. Dean was more than happy with the decision and ignored Sam muttering 'wuss' under his breath.

Once it was just Sam, Dean, and Castiel left in the kitchen, they all sat down. Dean decided it was time he confronted Castiel about the feelings in his gut: the angel was hiding something.

"OK, Cas – what's up?" Dean asked pointedly. "I know you know something – are keeping something from us. What is it?" When Cas fidgeted, Dean grabbed the angel's wrist, just in case the other decided to literally fly off. "C'mon, man – my soul is a little bit on the line here. What are we dealing with?"

Castiel looked from Dean to Sam and back to Dean, and then sighed.

"Well, it would be better for you both to know the exact nature of what we are dealing with," Castiel admitted.

"Duh, Cas, duh," Dean fired back, and Sam concurred with what Dean classified as bitchface #83.

"It's a long story," Castiel began. "But it starts with prophecy."

 

 

_In the Age before the Apocalypse,_

_A child born of a Son of God and Son of Adam_

_Shall be marked by One Who Flees from Death._

_The Abomination will Rise_

_And defeat his marker,_

_Smiting Evil from the land._

"We remained watchful, and sure enough during the mid-twentieth century anno domini, Lord Voldemort began to rise in power."

"What did he have to do with the crystal ball, mumbo jumbo," Dean asked.

"Voldemort literally means 'flee from death' in French," Sam explained. " _Vol de Mort._  Now let Cas finish the story!"

"Thank you, Sam," Casitel replied as Dean made a face at his brother. The man dropped it when the angel turned his attention back to him. "And it was not 'crystal ball, mumbo jumbo' – a prophet made this prediction millennia ago. It was a grave prophecy with frightening implications – it meant that an abomination to the Lord would have to be created to counteract Evil and for the apocalypse to take place.

"Once we caught sight of Lord Voldemort, we understood why we would need an abomination. He had taken on black magic and conducted numerous demonic rituals that resulted in his being invulnerable to all human and demonic magic. With these magicks, he created horcruxes, splitting his soul into pieces and placing them into inanimate objects, which would make him immortal in human standards; as to be dead, the complete soul must be in some aspect of the netherworld. As angels were, at the time, instructed not to interfere with humanity, we would not be able to smite the wizard..."

"But an abomination could," Sam finished for Castiel, putting two and two together. "So an abomination, the child of a son of God and son of Adam– a nephilim?"

"A nefa-what?" Dean gruffed, confused.

"A nephilim, the child of an angel and human," Castiel answered, looking away. "You are correct Sam, it would be a nephilim: an abomination to the Lord. The original nephilim were the product of the egrḗgoroi, the Watchers.

"The Watchers were angels assigned to Earth to watch over humans after Adam and Eve were cast from the Garden. Many of the Watchers began to lust after the human women and began to defect from Heaven. In the end, 200 angels fell and began to procreate among the daughters of Eve and began teaching men forbidden knowledge: war, weaponry, magic, signs of the earth and sky. Their children – the nephillim – were giants in human terms and were evil pillagers of the Earth who left only destruction in their wake. In order to rid the Earth of nephilim, Father sent the Great Flood. Uriel warned Noah to preserve humanity, and all but ten percent of the nephilim's souls perished in the waters. The ten percent left became demons, to lead Man astray until Final Judgment. Those angels that begat them were cast in chains into Tartarus. Uriel was their guard. That is the fate for any angel that produces nephilim, and no angel had strayed since."(1)

"Well, obviously one  _did_ ," Dean snorted derisively.

"Yes, that is why I said 'no angel  _had_ strayed,'" Casitel clarified, still refusing to make eye contact with the brothers. "There are exceptions to the rule. The prophecy called for an abomination. We realized it had to be a nephilim, as it was the only creature aside from an angel that could counteract the cross of such large volumes of demonic and human magicks. It was decided that the angel would have to procreate with a human and that angel who procreated would not be punished by Heaven for the task."

"Why?" Dean asked, intrigued. Sexual taboos and 'exceptions to rules' always intrigued him for obvious reasons. "Because it was prophecy? Because it would be an angel doing the catching instead of the pitching?"

"The exception is because the act would be for mere procreation not  _lust_ ," Castiel answered, his gruff monotone having a snappish quality to it. He then finally looked at Dean and tilted his head, his blue eyes confused. "I do not understand that reference to catching and pitching – is that a sport? Because no sport was involved in it."

Dean smirked and opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by Sam who glared at his brother.

"What Dean means is that, was the reason the angel would not be punished because human would be the one to, uh, have intercourse in the angel and, uh, impregnate the angel," Sam responded, his ears tinting pink. "Since the prophecy said Son of God and Son of Adam – and you've told us countless times that angels don't have genders, so the angel was wearing a female vessel and was impregnated. Right?"

"No," Castiel replied. "Each angel was created individually by God's hand. Angels cannot carry offspring, because we were not created that way."

The brothers both looked at each other in disbelief as they realized what Castiel was saying.

"Wait – are you saying that an angel knocked up a  _man_?" Dean exclaimed. "That's crazy – men  _can't_  get pregnant."

"No, not biologically – but those born with a great amount of magic can," Castiel replied and looked away again. "Men born with magic can carry a child to term and birth him/her. The magic transfigures the wizard-carrier's sperm into an egg and fertilizes the sire's sperm within the egg, making a child. The child grows in a womb created and sustained by magic within the carrier. Then a passage is created for the child to birthed out of. It's all seamless, really."

"We'll take your word for it," Dead said, looking queasy.

"So – why with a wizard?" Sam asked, his mind boggled as well. "I mean – I know that the prophecy said Son of Adam, but – still, why not a woman, or a born witch?"

"The magic it takes to support a male pregnancy is very great – that is why only those wizards of high magic ability can conceive and carry a child to term," Castiel explained. "Growing within a womb of pure magic, the child becomes saturated with power. His/her magical core is larger as a result – they can retain much more power. It is very rare – and those children are highly valued. Such a child's power in conjunction with nephilim abilities is a deadly force indeed – more than enough to take down the warped soul of Lord Voldemort.

"So, an angel came down from Heaven, lay with a wizard, and sired a child. He was told after that a child of prophecy would be born from their union, but he did not believe until a month later, when he learned of the pregnancy. He was cautioned to hide the child, so as it keep it safe so it would grow into the warrior that was needed. The wizard married a dear friend, and she pretended to be with child, and he hid his pregnancy with glamour magic. The nephilim that was born to them was Harry James Potter.

"The couple was killed when the boy was a year and a half old by Lord Voldemort. Just as there was an angelic prophecy about the Dark Lord and the boy that would defeat him, the angels created a human one. It was arranged that his spy would hear part of the human prophecy that stated that a boy born at the end of July to those who had thrice defied him. It happened as planned. The spy reported back its findings, and Lord Voldemort went after them, and after killing the parents, he turned his wand to the boy and cast the highest curse human magic possesses:  _avada kedavra_ , the killing curse. The curse was the first enchantment taught to man by Armoni, one of the leaders of the fallen Watchers. As it is the oldest magic humans have possessed, it has the most power: it immediately removes the soul from the vessel. Death is inescapable and no enchantment or armor can block its path... for humans, that is.

"When the curse hit the nephilim, it rebounded and struck Lord Voldemort, tearing his soul from his body. He did not die, but was left a weak wraith. It took him nearly fourteen years to gain his own body back. This gave enough time for the nephilim to grow into his powers. Two years after gaining his body back, the nephilim and his people were able to track all of the inanimate horcruxes and destroy them. There were only two left. A snake and the one within the nephilim himself."

"Wait – I thought you said he could only split his soul into inanimate objects," Sam interrupted. "Why would he put one within Harry – and a snake?"

"I am not knowledgeable as to why he chose the snake," the angel replied. "But, for the nephilim, it was not purposeful. Let me explain.

"When a human commits murder, not just killing in self-defense or within war, but the murder of innocents, it splinters the soul. Eventually, it heals but leaves scars. However, that takes time. Someone who can perceive his soul can take the splinter and put it within an object to create a horcrux, with the right pre-ritual. Only humans with some amount of heavenly grace or, like Lord Voldemort, high demonic power can perceive souls. By the time he arrived to kill the nephilim, he had six horcruxes. He intended to use the murder of the nephilim as his seventh horcrux.

"The magical backlash of the cast spell was enormous. If he had no horcruxes, he would have died instantly. However he already had horcruxes that ensured his soul could not pass to the netherworld. His body disintegrated, but his soul remained. Unknowing to him, because of the murder he committed of Lily Potter and the pre-ritual, the soul left split into two. One half of the soul escaped to the wilds of the Earth and the other half went into the nephilim."

"Wait you mean –" Sam started, and now he started to look sick. He thought back to Azazel and what the demon had done to him the night his nursery burned.

"That thing  _was in him_?" Dean finished for his brother, realizing the other could not. "So was he possessed or what?"

"Not as such, no," Castiel replied. "He was a living vessel for the soul shard. He carried it within him and it had little effect on his life, aside from inheriting some of Lord Voldemort's magical gifts and having a connection with him. The nephilim would have visions of the other, as present actions were occurring, especially emotional transference – but that was all. The shard never possessed him, because it was too small to do so. So it just sat within him until the final battle, when Lord Voldemort destroyed it himself."

"Why would he destroy it?" Sam asked.

"He did not do so intentionally," Castiel said. "The nephilim was led to believe that he had to sacrifice his life to Lord Voldemort in order for him to be defeated. After instructing a fellow comrade to kill the snake, the nephilim walked up to his enemy, and Lord Voldemort cast  _avada kedvra_. What both wizards and all the humans who watched did not know was that the curse would not kill him but rather killed the soul shard within the boy, destroying it.

"Surviving the curse caused enough confusion for his side to have the upper hand. His comrade killed the snake, and the nephilim defeated Lord Voldemort. And his purpose was complete."

Castiel, who had been staring at the ceiling, now stared at his hands and flexed them. At that moment, Dean noticed he was still holding the angel's wrist and quickly took his hand away and glanced at Sam and felt relief when he saw that the other was not paying attention to the actions of his brother's hands. Then he noticed that Sam was wearing bitchface #7.

Shit.

"And then what happened?" Sam asked, his voice lowered and his eyes bright. Castiel snapped his eyes up and caught the man's, and even he realized the younger Winchester was upset. "What happened to Harry?"

"The nephilim was... disposed of," Castiel answered. "Or so we thought." And put his head to his hands and sighed.

"What the fuck," Dean barked out, and Sam looked just as livid. "So, this kid who sacrificed everything to take out this Vol-De-Douchebag was killed for his efforts? Seriously,  _what the hell_ , Cas? Is that what we're  _fighting_ for? To kill kids who did their part?"

"How many werewolves, vampires, and other creatures have you killed in your day?" Castiel asked, heat coming into his voice as he raised his head and stared Dean in the eye.

"That's different," Dean snapped defensively. "They had hurt or killed people. They were a danger to society."

"And so it was determined the nephilim would be," Castiel countered, though the heat was gone from his voice. The angel looked exhausted, and that startled Dean. He understood for the first time the toll that being cut off from heaven must have been causing the angel. "You weren't there when they were first around. Back in the days before the Great Flood. They only brought destruction in their wake – no goodness for mankind. They are abominations for a reason.

"And this nephilim had great power, and once he killed Lord Voldemort, he continued to kill. He tore through creatures and humans alike, and smote the demons as Crowley said. How many more would he have destroyed? How many of his own people would he have taken down? So it was decided... he would be smote. And so it was. Heaven's grace fell onto him like a lightening bolt and he erupted into black flames. He let out one final surge of energy, destroying all of the demon's vessels. The 'red' in the shockwave was from the disintegration of their bodies: they all turned into a red mist. Nothing was left of the nephilim but ash."

"What did his angel-father think of this?" Sam asked, furious. "Didn't the dick care that his son  _was killed_  by his  _brothers_?"

"He – he  _felt_ ," Castiel whispered, looking away from them again. "Angels do not have emotions: it is a failing to have them. He admitted his feeling to Uriel who did not send him to Tartarus with the other nephilim sires, because the angel had been honest and had not tried to hide his feelings. He was, however, re-indoctrinated, to gain more solace and understandings that it was the Father's will that it be done and to obey Father and his ways. The nephilim had to be created to counteract the evil. It was the only thing that could be done to save Father's ultimate creation: humanity. And once he had done so, he needed to be put down, to prevent more destruction of humanity."

"So you dicks used him as a weapon!" Sam exclaimed, and stood quickly from his chair. "Created to take down a monster and then disposed of. I can't believe I prayed to you lot – that I prayed every day. That you would create a child only to be used in war – oh, wait that's what you did with us, wasn't it –"

"Sammy-" Dean called, trying to calm his brother down.

"Just created us to be  _meat suits_ ," Sam continued, "to be part of your little  _apocalypse party_."

"I don't believe in that anymore," Castiel argued, and Dean thought he looked ashamed.

"In what? The apocalypse or killing Harry?" Sam accused.

Dean wanted to defend Cas, he really did, because Sam was scary when you riled him up as much as he was now. But he was also wondering that same question. His heart pounded harder when Castiel did not answer.

"Cas,  _would you kill him if you had the chance_?" Sam asked, leaning on the table with both hands, his jaw clenched and eyes burning. Shit, Dean thought, when did his little brother get so intimidating?

"No, I will not 'shoot first, ask questions later'" Castiel finally answered, though he looked in pain to do so. "But even the thought of him – he is an abomination to my species. He  _feels_  wrong. That will not go away."

He glanced away for a moment, gathered his thoughts, looked back at Sam, and leaned forward towards him, as if trying to intimidate Sam in return by mirroring him.

"But you must understand, that he may be a danger to society," Castiel said firmly, and was that a hint of sadness Dean heard in his voice? "He may have to be disposed of. Again. Do not for a moment let your guard down around him. The nephilim eradicated hundreds of demons with his bare hands and destroyed even more vessels. He slew a wizard who had more control of human and demonic magic than any other in a millennium. Two humans would mean nothing to him. You  _must be careful_. We don't even know how he survived or how the Deathly Hallows works."

Sam sighed and looked as if the wind left his sails. Although he thought it was awful that the angels had yet again manipulated people, he had too much experience as a hunter not to heed Castiel's warning. Just because someone was forced into something did not mean they were not dangerous. He slumped down into his chair.

"So you guys didn't know about the Death Master stuff?" Dean asked, picking up on that bit. That would explain why the angels thought the boy was dead.

"No, we were unaware," Castiel replied. "We saw only ash in his place. There was a tiny bit of grace left, but just remnants. Not enough for even a child nephilim, let alone an adult. The nephilim were sent to purgatory upon their deaths, a place angels cannot tread, so we did not check. Not that we thought we needed to."

"Anything else we need to know, Cas?" Dean asked, and took a long breath when the angel shook his head. It was a long day, and it was about to get longer.

"OK, well, now that everyone here is on the same page," Dean said, glaring at Cas, who looked away from him. Again. God that was getting old! "Let's rehash our plan to trap him and get the ring. We may need to make a few changes since now we know he's an entirely different  _species_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) This explanation for the nephilim come from Second Temple Judaism, the Book of Enoch, the Book of Jubilees, and Watcher lore. Forgive me, I'm not Jewish or a religious scholar, so I may not have gotten it right on point.
> 
> AN: There we go! An explanation… of course we know that Cas isn't telling them everything, aren't we ;)
> 
> Next Chapter: the Trap. See you then!
> 
> EDIT 13/7/14: Now includes GIFs of Sam's bitchface as suggested by a reader. Credits to tumblr user deanmonpossessed and the allthesupernaturalgifs tumblr.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Apologies AO3 - while Fanfic dot net got the fifth chappie, this one has been in draft since 20 December! I hadn't realized until I was reviewing it today.

It was nice spring day in the Brecon Beacons. The fairly constant rain had allowed the greenery to multiply abundantly amongst the rocky hills and mountains. Surprisingly, today there was not even a hint of a cloud in the sky, just pure blue and a bright sun. The plush green hills rolled and spiked up from the earth, and a black bird flew to a nearby tree.

If his soul wasn't on the line and he wasn't having hallucinations of the hounds, Dean would have thought it a beautiful sight. As it was, Dean kept his eyes clenched close as Sam held his arm, keeping him grounded in this reality. They sat in one of the valleys on the plush grass, alone as far as they could tell. Except for a few sheep. It was Wales after all.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, and put his fist to his mouth, trying to keep from being sick.

"Dean, it's not real," Sam said, trying to calm his brother. "We still have two days. Let's just try to enjoy them OK?"

After Castiel confessed what the true nature of the Death Master was, the brothers decided they would have to be extra cautious while going about their plan. No one had any idea how the nephilim tracked the contracted souls, so the Winchesters and Castiel took no chances. After dropping off the men in the UK, the angel vanished, not wanting to spook the target. The brothers themselves just tried to act like tourists and that they really did believe that Dean was going to lose his soul at the end of the contract.

Dean had a feeling that a part of Sammy feared that was what would happen; but Dean trusted Crowley – not his word, but rather his self-interest. If the demon took his soul, then their side would lose, and thus he would lose. Not only that, but Sammy would make it his mission to burn Crowley by any means necessary that was for sure. No, Crowley would keep to the contract.

But, fuck if it didn't suck balls in the interim.

"Dean, are you in there?" Sam asked, shaking Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, Sammy," Dean replied and took breath. He opened his eyes and let out the breath he held when he realized the hallucinations were gone. For now. "Yeah, I'm OK for now." He took in the view and whistled. "This sure is a nice place. Why'd ya pick to come here? How'd you even know about this place? I'd never even heard of Wales before." It was the truth, even though he was play-acting.

"Well, I  _read_ ," Sam said, and although his tone was bitchy, he was smiling. He did soften his tone as he continued. "And I know you hate the city and just toured London because I really wanted to. So, I researched and thought this would be a nice place to camp. Just the two of us."

"With lines like that, no wonder people think we're gay for each other," Dean smirked, unable to resist, and earned a punch in the arm from his brother.

"C'mon  _bro_ , you going to help me set up the tent?" Sam said as he rose from the ground and started to make his way over to their gear.

"Nah, I'm just going to let you do all the work," Dean said as he lounged on the grass. "God knows you owe me from all the time I did all the work when we were kids."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it. Now was not the time to bring up old drama. So, he just sighed and went about finishing making up camp. They had been half way through when Dean heard the howl of the hounds and began to hallucinate.

Dean kept staring at all the greenery when the black bird cawed. It slightly startled the man, though he would never admit it, and he quickly turned his attention to the bird.

It was a large black bird, larger than the grackles he was used to at home. This one seemed strange, though. The bird just stared at him and tilted his head as if it was trying to understand him. When Dean mimicked the tilting, it cawed at him again.

"What are you doing Dean?" Sam called from where he was putting up the tent.

"There's this crow just starin' at me funky," Dean said, and the bird ruffled its feathers in response and turned its head away from the man. "It doesn't seem to like me calling it a crow, though."

"Of course not," a voice said behind them. "Branwen is a raven not a crow. Just a matter of a pinion (1), but she get's fussy."

Both Sam and Dean jumped to their feet and turned around to confront the voice.

A black-haired giant (2) with a scared face and jade-green eyes met their gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Old joke. The only difference between a crow and a raven is that a crow has five pinion feathers and a raven has four... so it's just a matter of a pinion! (Well, I think it's funny.)
> 
> (2) For the record, Harry is going to be giant tall like Sam, but not a giant like Hagrid/Grawp.
> 
> AN: I know! A cliffie! But, I promise, the next chapter is worth it. Not sure when the update will come, but I'm shooting for this month (July).
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me going ;) Thanks for reading! Love, Insie


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Lovelies for the long hiatus. RL PhD took up most of my writing mojo. But, as a reward for you long-suffering readers, here is a much longer chapter than usual. Enjoy and happy new year! Love, Insie

(1)

In an abandoned castle on a cliff in Wales, sat one Harry James Potter. The wizard had come to the training room to release his anger, and release it he did. Dozens upon dozens of dummies were now bits of fluff and cloth. Not even the walls remained unscathed. Deep scars bit into the stone like claws from a dragon. And in the middle of it all, Harry sat, feeling alone as ever. He didn’t even try to wipe the tears from his face, knowing it was useless. Only more would come.

His dad was dead. He was orphaned, again.

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

When Gabriel had picked him up from the ashes, the angel had done more than collect a baby phoenix. He had touched his heart and helped him see how life was worth living.

Harry had welcomed death twice that day. Once to Voldemort’s wand and then to the angelic smiting. Upon waking from his first ‘death’, he had been surprised at the power that pulsed through him. Taking advantage of the boon, he continued to slay the demons, becoming wild as fiendfyre in his demonic obliteration. When the smiting came, he thought it was some demonic power finally gaining the upper hand and did not try to fight the awesome surge within him. He had accepted his role as a weapon, and now fate determined his task complete. Harry had felt relief, as he had never any intention of surviving the war. What use was the shell once the explosives had detonated? He welcomed death a second time and burst into flames.

What he had not expected was to transform into a black baby phoenix and be struggling for air in the ashes.

All around him was chaos. Harry had been half convinced that he was in hell with all the terrible giants around him, nearly stepping on him in his makeshift nest. There were terribly loud shouts and screams, and his arms weren’t working to let him cover his ears. Not to mention the red mist that covered everyone and everything.

Suddenly, a large hand picked him up, and he was flown away from the carnage.

Days later, Harry awoke from a deep sleep to a face centimeters away from his own. Starting, Harry backed up the bed before he slammed his head on the headboard. The face started to laugh and introduce himself.

Gabriel. The archangel now imposter-trickster had saved him.

As the angel explained to him the prophesy and all of the angelic actions that led to this day, Harry knew he should become angry, furious even that his life had been controlled in such a way. He had no mother; his sire had abandoned him and let him die; he had been smote by the very angels that had created him; the list went on. But all the boy felt was numb.

“Then why am I alive?” Harry finally asked. “If God wanted me dead, how have I survived? Am I just some freak –”

“Never call yourself that again,” Gabriel said firmly, becoming serious. The angel took Harry’s hands in his and looked him in the eyes. “You have been blessed. Your first resurrection was a trick of the horcrux. The curse killed the shard of Voldemort’s soul that resided inside you. But the second – that was blessing from Father. Phoenixes are rare because they are the souls of the resurrected of God’s chosen, gifted with eternal life.”

“So Fawkes -?”

“Her name was Ariana Dumbledore. Even in her addled mind, she knew that her brother and his lover Grindewald were going down a dark and dangerous path. Nothing but a serious shock would shake Albus from the path – and what was she but a burden? At least in this way, she would be of use. So she stepped into the fray and sacrificed herself to save her brother’s soul. She succeeded. Albus became a pillar of light as he pursued redemption. In return for her sacrifice, God granted Ariana life renewed as the phoenix, where she stayed as protector and confidant to her brother. Upon his death, she chose to follow him.”

“How do you know all this? Does He – does God speak with you? This all seems so fantastic –”

“More fantastic than your own life? But no. Father has, well, left the building of sorts. However, it was always my duty to attend to the martyrs, those granted new life. Even though I left home long ago, that is one duty I cannot give up. As I was with you, I was with Ariana. You call to me, and I come – gladly. Just by your existence, you are proof that Father has not abandoned us, albeit being slightly neglectful.”

“Why? Why would he save me? Especially if I am an – abomination. Why would he do so?”

“That I don’t know. But I won’t question it. He decided you were worthy enough. And now, it is my task to help you.”

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

Over the next few months, that was just was Gabriel did. He helped Harry train and control his powers. Until the final battle, the nephilim powers within him seemed to be dormant within the boy, and to the outside world he looked ‘normal’. Gabriel believed this was because the angelic grace was fighting the horcrux from taking over his body, and with so much effort there, the angelic traits receded. After the horcrux was removed, the grace became uncorked and began to change him. His magical core increased, he became taller, and his control over his anger decreased.

The last change was a surprise. Harry had thought that his angel blood would cause him to be more peaceful, not to reduce his already short fuse.

Gabriel laughed at that statement.

“Angels are warriors first and foremost – soldiers for the Lord. Violence is nothing to us, as long as it is with purpose. Throw in your pesky human emotions, and that makes you a dangerous opponent. It is why most nephilim were destroyed and why they wanted to destroy you. Great power with little control means ‘Danger Will Robinson.’”

“What?”

“Man, you really haven’t seen that film? So good. Anyway, what you and I will do is work on meditation. If it works for Bruce Banner, it’ll work for you.”

“Who?”

“You’re useless, kid.”

After months of mantras, breathing exercises, and seventeen destroyed windows, Harry finally reined in his temper. The key he found was not trying to squash his anger down – that only led to it building up and releasing with only a little pressure. No, he let his anger simmer constantly, but never letting it reach a boil.

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

Until today, that is.

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

Over the years, Gabriel and Harry had bonded. The archangel got him through his post-suicidal depression and gave him purpose. When the demons started to return to the island, Harry could feel their presence. As the only being that both had the ability and the willingness to purify the demons and rescue the poor souls promised away, the boy felt he had no other choice but to attack the evil in his land. Gabriel fully supported this endeavor and helped train him. While Gabriel had punished ‘douchebags’ in his day, the angel felt it too dangerous to attack demons. They would sense his angelic grace and blow his trickster cover.

The first bout against the demons only left Harry with one stab wound in his side that healed quickly enough. By the third and fourth, he was able to destroy them seamlessly, and soon the demons learned from the lesson of others.

Harry James Potter was now the guardian of the island, and demons feared him too much to return.

Sure, every now and then there were pop-ups in demonic activity, always having to do with a deal about to be realized. Given the hellhound activity before each event, Harry had enough time to track down the souls and the crossroad demons before the deal was fulfilled.

When Gabriel asked him why he released the souls, some of whom deserved Hell, Harry answered that every being deserved a chance at redemption. Severus Snape had taught him that. It also didn’t help that he acted as Death himself when he smote the demon and told the soul this was their chance to make things right and that he would know if they continued down their damned path.

The threat he made wasn’t a light one. To release them from the deal, he found that he left a mark on their souls. He thusly knew which ones were those he saved and was able to check up on them from time to time. Only two of the hundreds he had dealt with turned their noses up at his warnings and continued their ways (a politician and a TV chef), and Gabriel punished them in his stead, wanting a piece of the action. As stated, all the rest turned their lives around. Some genuinely regretted their decisions. The good majority, however, were terrified of Harry returning.

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

Harry made an imposing figure. At 6’3”, his flyaway raven hair and porcelain skin contrasted his jade green eyes magnificently, at times making them seem to glow as green as Avada Kedavra. But what always struck fear into the hearts of those who saw him was his scar. Not his lightning-bolt scar – that one was mostly covered by his fringe and had actually receded since the horcrux was destroyed. No, the scar that transfixed them was a tree-like scar that ran from his forehead down to his chest. (2)

[AN: Imagine going from the forehead to the chest instead of on the arm.]

The mark of the angelic smiting.

Gabriel said he had barely been able to save his eye and found the scar was too deep for him to heal. Harry didn’t mind though. He had come to accept his scars, and it served as a reminder of his place in the world.

A discarded weapon.

His conception and birth were all for the purpose of creating a weapon to fulfill a prophecy. Although he had accepted his role as a weapon in the war, it still burned him that he had been used in such a way. What especially pained him were the actions of his sire: the angel had used his father and knowingly impregnated James, abandoned James after the conception, abandoned Harry to the Dursley’s upon the deaths of James and Lily, and did nothing to stop his brothers from smiting his son from the Earth.

Even the wizarding world had abandoned Harry after all he had done for them. When Harry had mentioned to Gabriel that he wanted to contact the Weasley’s and Ron and Hermione to let them know he was alive, the archangel had told him the bad news. Even after his death, they had betrayed him, giving interview after interview on how they were glad that Harry Potter had died that day, else they would have had another Dark Lord on their hands. Harry had refused to believe Gabriel, screaming and shouting at the angel and ruining all the furniture in the east wing’s sitting room. Once he calmed, Gabriel showed him all of the _Daily Prophet_ articles.

_“Golden Boy Not So Golden, Best Friend Claims”_

_“Potter Became What He Swore to Defeat, Granger Claims”_

_“Ginny Weasley Broke Up with Potter, Fearing Safety”_

The articles went on, each one worse than the last.

Harry lashed out, destroying every object in his path.

“How could they?” He seethed, his anger rolling from him in waves. “After everything I did –”

“Calm yourself, little one,” Gabriel said, putting his hands on the nephilim’s shoulders, keeping him still. “You must forgive them.”

“Why?” Harry spat, struggling in Gabriel’s hold. “They don’t deserve –”

“Precisely,” Gabriel interrupted. “They don’t deserve it, which is why you will grant it. It will take time, but you must start to try. They are misguided fools. They do not deserve your wrath; they deserve your pity. Wrath will only do more harm to you instead of them. It will eat at you until you become what they think you’ve already become.”

“What is the point, Gabriel?” Harry cried, slumping in the angel’s hands. “Why did God save me? To punish me? I’m alone, after all I did for them – I don’t understand! My friends – they were family! They betrayed me – and even my real family betrayed me – Castiel –”

Gabriel embraced the boy, and Harry leant into the touch. He could feel warmth radiate from the angel and, with a woosh, felt invisible wings enclose around them.

“I don’t know, Harry darling,” Gabriel said softly. “But I know it was not to punish you. Together, we’ll get your life back on track, and fuck the rest of them. We’re a family. You are my nephew, and I will take care of you. I promise.”

Whereas Severus Snape taught Harry the importance of redemption, Gabriel taught him forgiveness. He would never forget the betrayals (hence, welcoming his scars), but he would endeavor to forgive.

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

The archangel fulfilled his promise to take care of Harry. Aside from giving Harry purpose as a guardian, Gabriel had become his dad. The archangel trained him, fed him, watched films with him, and some days just spent hours upon hours talking with him about his hopes and dreams. For the first time since Sirius, Harry felt loved by a father figure. Over time, Harry began to call Gabriel ‘dad’ in his head, and one day it slipped out. Instead of being offended or making fun of him, like Harry feared he might, the archangel merely smiled and said, “Love you too, son.”

The smile that Harry had was so wide, his blushing cheeks hurt.

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

After the first year of stabilizing Harry’s powers and anger and getting him set up to protect the island from demons, the pair didn’t spend all their time together. Gabriel went back to his job trickstering, but he made sure to visit Harry often, usually bringing a present. As much as Harry wished he could travel with Gabriel, it was too dangerous to do more than the odd demon hunting. Although Gabriel had carved into his bones sigils preventing angelic location, the chances of being spotted by the increasingly active angels were too much.

It wasn’t too terrible being cooped up on the castle grounds. It was an unplottable location with wards so strong it would take an army of angels to penetrate. Harry tended to his gardens, selling potions ingredients under a false name. Over time he gained familiars, a raven named Branwen and a snake named Anani, so he didn’t lack company. Mostly, he enjoyed flying as his phoenix form. Feeling the air between his feathers was better than flying a broom any day.

Harry’s life was peaceful now. Since the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the demonic activity on the island had become nonexistent, all demon deals being destroyed and no new demons daring return to create new ones. So, most his days were relaxing in his garden or amongst the clouds.

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

Then Gabriel came with news of the Winchesters and the scuttlebutt on Angel Radio.

The angels, having seen Harry’s prophecy fulfilled, decided to put the apocalypse into motion using the Winchesters and brought the Righteous Man out of Hell. The seals were broken, the Four Horseman roamed the Earth, and Lucifer was released from his prison. The only hitch in the plan was the Winchesters themselves, who refused to submit to their respective angels.

Once Gabriel finished ranting and raving about how the brothers would not take their rightful places, Harry spoke his mind.

“They do have a point,” Harry said, causing Gabriel to whip his head toward him, bug-eyed. “The Apocalypse will destroy life as they know it, and how do they know if there really will be peace in the end?”

“What, you’re on their side?” Gabriel accused, huffing into the armchair across from Harry.

“Hear me out,” Harry replied, holding his hands palms up. “I’m just saying I understand where they’re coming from. I know what it’s like to be created to fulfill some angelic goal and the consequences of that. It sucks.”

“Yes but you went through with it,” Gabriel countered.

“All I was sacrificing was myself,” Harry replied. “This would mean sacrificing the world.”

“That’s not true –” Gabriel refuted.

“Isn’t it?” Harry replied, steepling his fingers together. “Why do you insist that I stay here except for my few patrols around the country? We don’t know whether all the angels coming down on me as one will destroy me, phoenix or not. In a war between Michael and Lucifer, what do you think would happen to this planet? Even if some survived, what would be left for those ‘chosen’ in their new paradise?

“Plus, you have to admit that the angels in charge are being a bag of dicks about the whole thing,” Harry continued. “They know that this is not God’s will since he has been gone for so long, yet that is their justification to their army. It’s a mess of lies and corruption.”

“How do we know that’s not what Father wants?” Gabriel replied, play devil’s advocate – poor word choice. “He has not tried to stop it at all, there has been no signs or messages –”

“Or He believes in free will,” Harry answered. “Isn’t that why angels were not supposed to interfere after a certain point? To let mankind make it’s own mistakes –”

“And look at how many there are,” Gabriel interrupted. “Maybe taking away free will would be the best thing for them.”

“You can’t mean that,” Harry snapped. “Yes there were and are mistakes, but overall there has been more good than bad. If given the opportunity, humanity will rise to occasion. Just look at those Winchesters. They have faced so much adversity, they have every right to turn tail and run. Yet, they persevere.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Gabriel sighed, putting his head into his hands.

“You’re right, I didn’t mean that,” Gabriel said and then looked up at Harry. “When did you become so wise?” 

“I had a good teacher,” the nephilim quipped, making the archangel laugh.

“You know this means I’ll be putting my neck on the line,” Gabriel said, all mirth fading from his face. “And I may not come back.”

“It is better to die defending your friends than scurry away like a rat and let them perish,” Harry replied and stood up, offering Gabriel his hand, pulling the angel up out of the chair. “And I’ll go with you.”

“No, you can’t do that, Harry,” Gabriel objected. “It’s too dangerous.”

“And I haven’t faced danger before?” Harry scoffed.

“Nothing like this,” Gabriel insisted, taking the young nephilim into his arms. “Michael and Lucifer – they have powers beyond normal angels. Even if your phoenix gift saves you, it would be so easy to capture you and lock you away. You can’t risk that – I can’t risk that. And if you’re there, I’d be too focused on protecting you than doing what needs to be done. Promise me you won’t follow.”

“But, Dad –” Harry protested.

“Promise me,” Gabriel ordered sternly. After a moment, Harry gave in and nodded, leaning into the angel’s embrace. “Good boy. I’m so proud of you. Always remember that.” 

“Come back,” Harry pleaded. “Please come back. Be safe.”

“I’ll do my best, kiddo – and hey, I still have my lucky necklace,” Gabriel replied, giving one last squeeze of the hug. “Love you, Phoenix Child.”

And with a woosh he was gone.

 *DMAS*DMAS*DMAS* 

It had been a fortnight and a day since Harry sent Gabriel off to war. In that time, Harry had begun to regret his honesty. He should have lied. He should have said that it was best to stay out of the whole thing all together. He should not have let his dad go out there alone. The shouldas went on and on and on.

And now Gabriel was dead. Harry was sure of it. The archangel never went more than a fortnight without contacting Harry. What’s more, the lucky necklace Gabriel mentioned was one that Harry had charmed to let the nephilim feel the angel’s heartbeat in the necklace attached around his own neck and vice versa.

When Harry woke up, the necklace had stopped it’s thumping.

Gabriel’s heart had stopped.

Harry’s shock turned into a volcanic anger, and the nephilim went down to the training room before he destroyed his bedroom.

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS* 

Amani slithered up his shoulder and hissed at his cheek, inadvertently tasting the nephilim’s tears. 

_“Ech!”_ the snake expressed. _“I do not like thisss tassste of the water coming from your eyesss. You are in pain. Why?”_

_“Dad – Gabriel – he isss dead,”_ Harry hissed out, petting his familiar gently. He continued to sob.

_“Oh, poor Ssspeaker,”_ Amani hissed in empathy, wrapping his form around Harry’s head. “ _He would not want his hatchling to be so morossse.”_

_“What will I do?”_ Harry asked, finally wiping the tears from his face.

_“You will fly,”_ Amani ordered.

This made Harry laugh in spite of himself.

_“But you hate flying,”_ Harry said, and Amani slithered down back to floor and then faced Harry. 

_“I did not sssay that I would fly,”_ the snake replied. _“You are happiest flying. He would want you to be happy. Go be happy. And find me mice.”_

Harry smiled and transformed into his black phoenix form. Taking flight, he flew from the training room, through the castle, and out the open window.

Maybe if he flew high enough he’d reach heaven.

Or wherever angels go when they die.

 *DMAS*DMAS*DMAS*

The sun was shining through the scattering of clouds, as if it was laughing at his mourning.

Branwen flew with him some of the way. She instinctively knew that he was in pain and that affection at that point would be unwanted; instead, she could be his companion, his silent vigil against complete loneliness. 

As Harry flew, he let himself stop thinking. His feathers soaked in the sunshine and the sea-air. He flew up into the clouds until he could feel the ice around him and then dove until he almost crashed into the sea, pulling up mere centimeters from the waters crest. 

He flew, and he flew, and he flew – until there was little strength left in him. He then landed on one of the cliff sides and splayed out on the grass. Branwen landed next to his head and nuzzled him with her head. 

_~I dislike your going so high and so low so quickly~_ the raven chastised. _~One day I’m afraid you will fall into the sea like a block of ice. But what happened, fledgling?~_

Harry told her what had happened, and she mourned with him.

_~He was a kind Feathered One, and I will miss him, as well~_ Branwen said and then trilled mournfully. _~Do not think of following him, fledgling. The Feathered One would not like that. And you have not lost him. He is with you always.~_

_~How do you mean?~_ Harry asked, puzzled. The raven flapped her wings and took flight, hovering above him.

_~He is everywhere you are, fledgling~_ Branwen said, and then landed on Harry’s chest. _~When my mother died, I was sorrowful, but then I felt her in the trees and in the clouds. She was with me and is still with me, just as the Feathered One is with you. Do not try to follow him, because through you, he is still here on this Earth. Time will come, but do not quicken it. Enjoy the magical spark that life is. And who would take care of the snake and I if you were gone? We would kill one another within a week.~_

That last line made Harry laugh.

_~True enough~_ Harry said finally, and then sighed. Closing his eyes, he let the sea breeze wash over him. If he kept very still, he could almost imagine that Gabriel was laying beside him.

Harry felt a hand clutch his own and give it a squeeze.

As soon as his eyes shot open, the pressure was gone.

Harry smiled anyway. 

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS* 

A few weeks later, Harry felt something he had not felt in over two years. 

Demonic activity. 

*DMAS*DMAS*DMAS* 

After careful investigation, Harry discovered the hounds were afoot. Unless Hell had well and truly overrun, this means that someone has a crossroads deal coming to an end.

It would not be someone who took the deal in the country. Harry would have known of it a decade ago. No, this must have been a visitor who is spending his/her last days in – Wales?

This should be interesting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Llansteffan Castle
> 
> (2) Called a Lichtenberg Figure, this is the pattern on the skin that someone is left with when they survive a lightning strike.
> 
> AN: Hope you all like my characterization of Harry! Next time will be the meeting between the Winchesters and Harry Potter. See you then, my lovelies! Love Insie.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! 
> 
> If you want to see more of me between updates, follow me on tumblr: http://insertpotterthemedusernamefanfic.tumblr.com


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